


This is it

by Sherctorrunning23



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Heartbreak, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Not Happy, Sheriarty - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 15:36:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8495731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherctorrunning23/pseuds/Sherctorrunning23
Summary: 'So this is it.'





	

‘So this is it.’ 

Sherlock shook his head frantically from the corner of the bedroom, where he’d been standing, shaking, for the last ten minutes. ‘Please, John-‘

John wasn’t shaking. John wasn't crying, or hyperventilating, or shouting. John was just packing, calm, collected, folding his trousers the way he’d learned in the army (Sherlock complained, but he secretly liked having all of his clothes folded: it made him feel cared for, protected). The only clue that he wasn't just packing for a holiday was in his hands, clenched so tightly the veins were standing out, and his tight, tensed mouth. 

_How could he?_

‘John. John. John.’ Sherlock was just repeating his name now, over and over, and John paused, trousers scrunched in his hands, before finally looking up.

_His eyes were like stone: cold, unyielding, dead._

‘What, Sherlock? What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do that I’m not already doing?’ His voice was rising, and Sherlock wasn't sure if he preferred it like that or not (he didn't really have a choice, really) but John was staring at him like…

_He was staring like he hated him._

‘I…John, I’m sorry.’ It was weak. He knew it, John knew it, and he called him out, barking out a false laugh. ‘That’s nice. That’s nice, Sherlock. You’re _sorry._ ’ 

‘It was a mistake. It was a stupid, drunken mistake-‘

John threw down the trousers. 

‘No. You’re wrong.’ He was doing his half-laugh, the little sound he made when he was so angry that shouting couldn't happen anymore, and Sherlock shrunk further back into the corner. ‘Forgetting to pick someone up from the airport is a mistake. Choosing spots and stripes is a mistake. Calling a teacher mummy is a mistake. Cheating on someone who you’ve made a _commitment_ to with someone who _tried to kill you-‘_ John stopped, took a very deep breath, and turned back to his suitcase. ‘That’s not a mistake.’ 

Sherlock took a small step forwards, hand outreached. ‘John-‘

‘And then,’ John said, voice shaking as he stared at the trousers, ‘You lied about it. You said you were on a case, you visited every single person who could possibly know. You got rid of the evidence, but _of-fucking-course_ Jim Moriarty is going to fucking screw you over, _of-fucking-course_ he’s going to have people taking pictures of it, _of-fucking-course_ he’s going to text it to everybody at Scotland Yard, your brother, God knows who else, _just_ as I’m telling them how _good_ we are, how _loving_ you’ve become, how _happy_ I am.’ He closed his eyes, and Sherlock’s heart snapped again as he continued to break the only person he’d ever loved properly and truly. ‘John, I swear, I hated myself for it, I couldn't break what we have, I had to make it better. That’s the reason I lied. I regret it now, I regretted it then-‘

‘You regret it.’ John placed the trousers gently in the suitcase and walked towards Sherlock, small, calculated steps, until he was less than a metre away from him. ‘You regret it, do you? Did you regret it when he kissed you? Or did you regret it when he took you into an _alleyway_ and pressed you against a dirty brick wall? Did you regret it when he was _fucking_ you, or when you were _moaning_ his name?’ 

Sherlock couldn't say anything to that. John knew it, and he turned slightly away. ‘You still love him.’

‘I love _you-‘_

‘That’s not what I said.’ John turned back, and his eyes weren't stone anymore: they were fire. ‘I said you love _him.’_

‘John. John, listen, I love _you._ ’ Sherlock didn't know what else to say, didn't know what else he could say, but he meant it with every single atom in his body. ‘ _You._ ’

John smiled again, that harsh half-smile. ‘Prove it.’ 

He didn't even think. It was instinct to remove the distance between them in one long step and take John’s head between his hands and kiss him, kiss him like he’d never kissed him before, try to put everything he felt into one kiss.

_Love and hope and regret and sorry, I’m so, so sorry, forgive me, unpack the suitcase, be with me again, please, John, I need you. I love you._

John was the one that broke away, staring up at Sherlock, and then he kissed him, pulling the taller man down to meet his lips, gentle and soft.

_I need you, and I love you, but I can’t. Goodbye._

Sherlock opened his eyes, and he watched both the first tear John had ever cried in front of him and the life he had thought was his slide away. 

There was no point resisting, not anymore. Sherlock just sat on the bed as John packed his bag. He watched as John put away his Macbook and his blog forever: he watched as John took his files out of the cabinet: he watched as John collected up his plates, his knives, his forks. 

He watched as John removed every trace of himself from their flat, making it Sherlock’s flat once more. He watched as John took a deep breath, looked once more around his home of the last two years, and stepped across the threshold. 

He watched as John opened his mouth, try to think of something to say, and close it again when he realised that nothing could be said to make this, the end of them, any better. He watched John go down the stairs, watched the door close and watched John walk away forever.   

Sherlock sat down on the floor and stared around the cluttered, empty-without-John flat. He sat and waited, though he didn't know what for. He sat, and then he took out his phone. 

**Make it stop - SH.**

He waited for a reply as he thought of John, with his crinkly eyes and his lopsided smile and his brilliant mind and better heart-

**Oh, darling. I thought you’d never ask.**

Sherlock smiled, softly and sorrowfully, and then he stood up and left his flat, and their life, without a backwards glance.

**Author's Note:**

> Just to make it clear because I've posted this before and got some really angry comments: I wrote this as is Sherlock and John are desperately in love, and Sherlock made a mistake which John cannot forgive him for so Sherlock seeks solace in Jim. SHERLOCK LOVES JOHN, WHICH IS WHY IT IS TAGGED AS JOHNLOCK.


End file.
